


The Fire Inside

by DancingSquirrel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Friendship/Love, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sexy Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingSquirrel/pseuds/DancingSquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After reading the various JohnLock fanfic, I re-watched 'A Study in Pink' and was wondering what happened when John and Sherlock return home to their flat. I know they don't know each other by then, and only after this case, John decides to move in with Sherlock, but this is my imagination of 'what if'... This is a bit off the original path of the series, but just my imaginative creation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fire Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to #valsedenuit for reading my first ever FanFic and giving all the fantastic comments on what to improve.  
> This is my first go at FanFic, so I love to hear your comments on it!

Sherlock and John finally arrived at their flat. John was still shaking from the shock of chasing Sherlock, who took off in the unknown cab and then being helpless when he found out he was in the wrong building; too far to reach him. It had been a risk, shooting under the conditions given, through the windows and over such a distance. Not being sure if he would hit Sherlock ... he just had to do it. 

Mycroft would never find out what had really happened and if John could have a say in this, he never would. John had shot other people while being in Afghanistan, but this was something else. He normally only shot when he was in danger himself - this shot was to protect Sherlock. Although Sherlock still seemed to see it all as a big game (and even fun)! His eyes were sparkling, his cheeks flushed and he had a little smile on his face. All the way home in the cab he kept talking about the fact that he was right about his choice of pill and what he heard about this new enemy, Moriarty. John just stayed quiet. It was normal for Sherlock to get himself into danger, but this was too risky even for him. At one point, his love of danger and craving for an adrenaline kick would get him killed. And in that case, John might not be there on time to save him. As the shock slowly disappeared in John, anger started to take its place and boil up in him. 

Upon arrival at their flat, Sherlock hung up his coat and announced that he needed a shower. As if nothing special had happened. John noticed that he was grinding his teeth together and tried to relax a bit. Still, anger was boiling high inside of him. He went to get a drink and did not even bother to mix his whiskey, he just downed it in one big gulp, refilling his glass right away. 

What annoyed him most was that he cared, he really cared for Sherlock. Why? They were friends, flatmates, work colleagues, but what he was feeling was more, much more. This confused him enormously. He had his girlfriends, but none of them kept his interest for longer than about two weeks. In the past he'd always had a girlfriend, but since he lived with Sherlock, things had changed. He'd only just noticed.

John had not noticed Sherlock showing any interest in women. Neither had he ever seen him with a man. He didn't know what to make of it.  
In the hallway he could hear Sherlock coming out of his room, on his way to the bathroom for the announced shower, his slippers scuffling on the floor. John had finished his second drink in the meantime and was on his third. He never drank that much that quickly, but Sherlock was causing him to experience his feelings to the maximum - even the bad ones.

He realized that he cared for Sherlock, more than for a friend or a flatmate. Much more. If Sherlock had got himself killed that night, it would have been the death of John as well. That was the reason why he shot the guy that easily and still didn't feel sorry for it. As this realization hit him hard, he had to sit down. Sherlock was whistling a little melody in the bathroom. 

How could he? Did he not notice what just happened, how close he had been to death? Thoughts were racing through John's head. 

Now the water started to run in the shower. The flat was completely quiet, there was no other noise around, so he could hear Sherlock getting into the shower and closing the glass doors. It must have been the alcohol, but the mental image of Sherlock in the shower, naked and starting to wash himself, the soap starting to foam on his body, then washing his hair, it made John feel like he was on fire. Those pictures started to play in his mind and he could feel how aroused he was getting, his trousers starting to feel tight. His imagination was showing him pictures of a naked Sherlock, even when he tried to ignore them. John shook his head. This wasn't right, he had never had an interest in men. He went over to the window and opened it, hoping the cold air outside would help clear his thoughts. But the pictures just came back. John had seen Sherlock a couple of times without a shirt, when he was rushing through the flat to get ready at the last minute, trying to do three things at the same time. He even once got a picture of him in just his pants, when he came home from shopping earlier than Sherlock expected it and he was running around the flat. Who in heaven knows why he did that. There were no real explanations for why Sherlock did certain things. John had stopped wondering about Sherlock's actions a while back, and now he just accepted them. Honestly, it was fun most of the times. He enjoyed Sherlock being around, and the thought of not having him close anymore made him panic. 

John brushed his hand over his mouth; he was sweating. All of the sudden, it was too warm in the flat. He pulled his sweater off, just wearing his shirt now.  
He paced the floor in the living room back and forth. Downing the third glass of whiskey, he put the empty glass back on the table and crossed the short distance over to the bathroom. At the door he paused a second, his forehead resting on the wood of the door, trying to sort his thoughts. He could hear Sherlock whistling in the shower cabin, the water splashing. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open as anger filled him again. How could Sherlock face near-death and then be happy about it and act as if it was the best day in his life? 

He pushed the glass doors of the shower open, only to face a surprised Sherlock looking at him. 

“What are you doing here?“ he was asked with a raised eyebrow.  
John stepped into the shower, still dressed, and closed the doors behind him.  
“How dare you do this to me and then act as if nothing happened? I could have lost you tonight!“ John shouted at him.  
Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but John shut it with a fierce kiss. Not soft and kind, but rather harsh and strong. He pushed Sherlock against the back wall of the shower and felt him shuddering when his bare skin touched the cold stone of the tiles behind him. There was no other reaction from Sherlock so far, and when John stopped kissing him and stepped back a little, he had this inquisitive look on his face. You could see that something was going on in his mind, but he was not ready to spit it out yet. John would have expected at least some sort of reaction from Sherlock, but there was nothing.  
“I'm ... sorry ...“ John mumbled, and started to get back out of the shower. The moment he opened the shower doors, Sherlock grabbed his arm. John slowly turned around. 

“You've been worried about me?“ Sherlock asked, as if he couldn't believe it.  
John raised his hand to touch Sherlock's cheek, caressing it softly.  
“Yes, you stupid, suicidal idiot!“  
Sherlock looked surprised, like no one had ever told him that they cared about his well-being. John was shocked. He knew that Mycroft cared for Sherlock, but the brothers' relationship was totally screwed up. 

He leaned in to kiss Sherlock again. This time the kiss was soft and gentle, not rough and demanding. He was careful and wanted Sherlock to feel that he cared. He took Sherlock's lower lip between his lips and nibbled softly on it with his teeth. He could feel Sherlock tensing slightly, but not stopping or pushing him away.  
“Are you ok with this?“ John asked softly.

“Hmmm....“ was all he got as an answer, and John smiled.  
So he took his time, running his tongue softly over Sherlock's lips and he grinned when the detective opened his lips as reply. John ran his hand around Sherlock's nape, wrapping his fingers in his hair. This caused Sherlock to moan against his mouth. Encouraged by this, John ran is other hand over Sherlock's chest, while starting to play with Sherlock's tongue. Hissing, Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back.  
“I...“ Sherlock started. He looked away.  
“Sherlock, what is it?“ John asked. “Did I do something wrong?“  
“No, that's not it...“  
“What is it then?“ John was worried.  
“I...“ Sherlock started again. “I've never done this before..“ He was so quiet that John nearly had difficulty understanding him.  
“You've never kissed before?“ he asked.  
Sherlock looked up and met his eyes. “Never a man.“  
John had to swallow.  
“You like it?“ he asked carefully.  
After a short time, that seemed to be endless for John, Sherlock nodded. “Not too bad..“

“NOT TOO BAD?“ John gasped. He playfully slapped Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock grinned and John had to kiss him again. This time, he got a little response from Sherlock, reacting to his kiss. Their tongues met and John had the feeling he was plugged into an electrical wire. His hand went back into Sherlock's hair, while his other softly caressed his chest, running over his breast and softly caressing his nipple with a thumb. Judging by the way Sherlock had to breathe in, John knew he liked it. He slowly stepped a bit forward, pushing his leg between Sherlock's. His own cock was so hard by now, it hurt inside his tight jeans. It did not help that his clothes were totally soaked and stuck to his body even tighter than before. 

Very softly, he moved his leg until he found the right position. Sherlock's breath was coming out faster and rougher now. John brushed his fingers over Sherlock's nipples in small circles. Sherlock started to get restless, not knowing what to do with his own hands. At one point he must have made his mind up as he started to pull on John's shirt, trying to get him out of it. It was like it was glued to his body, so John had to help and undress himself. Curious, Sherlock's hands touched John, mimicking what he had done before. John smiled. Sherlock learned fast. 

John moved slowly down, starting to kiss and lick his way down from Sherlock's collarbone, taking his time, down to his chest. Sherlock's hands planted on John's shoulders, his fingers pushing into the skin. John circled his tongue around his nipple, causing Sherlock to breathe hard, then he flicked it over it. Quickly at first, then slower and carefully nibbling with his teeth. Judging by the sound he heard from above, Sherlock liked it. Moving over to the other nipple, John made sure to never lose contact with Sherlock at his leg, which he moved slowly back and forth. One quick look down told John that although Sherlock might not have had any experience with men, he was reacting well to this specific one - his cock was hard. Still licking and kissing, John's hands trailed further down on Sherlock's body, towards his hips and his stomach. 

The hand moving around and grabbing his well-shaped round bottom cheek caused Sherlock to tense.  
“You alright?“ John asked. His own voice sounded husky and rough to his ears.  
Sherlock looked at him. “Yes … just … „  
“Hmmm?“ John did not stop touching and kissing him.  
“I don't know what to do...“  
With a grin, John answered “Relax and enjoy! Let go!“

He put both hands on Sherlock's bottom and pulled him tight towards him, just to kiss him until they both were out of breath.  
Although he was wearing jeans, Sherlock could still feel John's aroused and hard cock against his leg. He was still dressed from waist down, only caring about Sherlock's pleasure and not his own. Sherlock had no idea what to do, or how to do it. Back at school, he once saw two boys from one of the higher grades making out in the dressing room after showering. He watched, more out of pure scientific interest than arousal - he felt nothing himself, seeing them. He never had the real desire for a sexual relationship and was now surprised about his feelings for John, or rather the sensations currently caused BY him. 

John's hand slowly moved from Sherlock's bottom, all the way around his hip to his front, brushing slightly over his cock. Sherlock tensed again.  
The next thing he felt was John's hand on his cock or rather, in the next second, his cock IN John's hand. John's grip was tight, but not tight enough to hurt, and slowly Sherlock started to move. The feeling was so intense, he leaned his head back against the tiles behind him and tried to focus on staying upright. John moved his hand in a steady rhythm. Then Sherlock felt John's other hand tighten around his sack, squeezing, kneading and pulling gently. The sensation of it threw him over the edge, he couldn't even warn John - he just gasped for air and tried to find a grip somewhere on the walls so as not to collapse. 

“That was unexpected!“ John smiled at him.  
“Sorry...“ was all Sherlock could get out, still panting heavily.  
“It's alright.“ John turned the shower off. Turning around, he asked “By the way, when was the last time you had sex?“ A raised eyebrow was the only answer he got. 

Sherlock stumbled out of the shower, wrapping himself into his bathrobe.  
“Thanks...“  
“Oh no worries, we aren't done yet!“ John said with a smile and pulled his wet jeans and pants off, to wrap himself in his own bathrobe. His cock was still hard and left a noticable bulge underneath the robe. Sherlock was surprised and didn't know what to say while John left the bathroom towards his bedroom. From the stairs he heard him calling “Are you coming?“

Sherlock shook his head. He couldn't really make out what was happening, the only thing he knew for sure was how good it had felt. Having John so close and feeling his touch all over his body, to share this with him as if it was totally normal. Sherlock's mind was racing. He tried to analyse the situation and why it happened. It must have been an after-effect for John from the stress caused by the danger they had been in. What he couldn't figure out was why he, Sherlock, had reacted that way. He tried to never let anyone get close to him. That way, he could avoid getting hurt. He had learned that early, and had been fine with it. However, since he lived with John, things had changed without him really noticing it. 

At the stairs he stopped and looked up. There was John, smiling at him. It made his knees go weak. 

It wasn't the first time that Sherlock was in John's room, but this time he seemed to notice how individually he had decorated it. His own room looked more sterile, in comparison. Reduced to the necessary things. In here, everything reflected John's personality, even the scent of his aftershave hung in the air. 

John was laying on his bed, smiling and patting the side next to him, inviting Sherlock. Awkward, he sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what was coming next. He heard John shuffling behind him, crawling towards him with a little giggle.  
“You know what Sherlock? This is the first time I've seen you this unsure, and not having the last word. I have to say, I actually like it!“ John kneeled behind him now, carefully pulling Sherlock's bathrobe down his shoulders. Planting light kisses on his shoulders and his back, John exposed more and more skin, his hands gliding softly over Sherlock's arms, shoulders, back. Massaging, caressing. Sherlock felt himself relax, the tension leaving his body every passing minute.  
John's hands were everywhere now. Sherlock's bathrobe lingered around his hips. One arm around his waist, John opened the belt and the robe fell open. Turning Sherlock's shoulders, John directed him further onto the bed, into the cushions so he was leaning against the headboard. 

There was a nervousness in Sherlock's eyes that John could not overlook. “I'm not going to do anything you don't want to, alright? Tell me if something I do doesn't feel good and I will stop right away.“ Sherlock nodded. 

Squeezing his legs apart, John moved to sit between them, leaning forward to kiss Sherlock. This time he met his kiss with a hunger for more. Apparently it was something he liked, John noticed, chuckling. They stopped when they both were out of breath. As he did in the shower, John moved his way downwards, licking and kissing Sherlock's collarbone - he found a sweet spot between neck and bone that caused Sherlock to take a deep breath every time his tongue flicked over the soft skin. Then he trailed down, taking his time again, nibbling, licking. 

Sherlock leaned his head back on the pillows behind him. These feelings rushing through him at present were overwhelming. Very rarely did he feel the need for the touch of another person; it mostly only irritated him, and so had his handful of sexual encounters. They mostly ended in a pure disaster. This was why it was so strange to feel this now and to his utmost surprise, it felt more than right. 

Curling his fingers in the bedsheet, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel how his cock started to ache, tension building up inside him. 

When John's tongue speared into the little hole of his navel, Sherlock arched his back. There was no thinking or analyzing now anymore, it was just feelings. Everything he normally blocked out. 

John smiled. He noticed the change in Sherlock, this slow giving in to him, accepting. He was Sherlock's first, he wanted to make this a positive memory for him. It was clearly noticable that he was aroused by John's actions, his cock hardening and throbbing against his body. John opened the belt of his own bathrobe and pulled it off, throwing it on the ground beside the bed. Now it was only skin on skin, no fabric between them. Sherlock's warm skin felt gorgeous against his own, so soft. 

Sherlocks hips bucked up, needing the touch, but John refused.  
“Easy, boy, easy.“  
John worked his way up again, lifting Sherlock's arms up and caressing the underside of his arms and the bare sides of his chest, while kissing him. His tongue teased Sherlock's, circling around his lips, sucking. At the same time, he pushed his thighs firmly against Sherlock's cock and balls, applying sweet pressure while pinning him down with the weight of his own hips. Sherlock started to move restlessly underneath him, breathing heavily and covered in a light layer of sweat.  
“oh, god! John! Oh!“ was all he managed between all the other indecipherable sounds he made.  
This was all John needed to hear. Trailing down again, he noticed that Sherlock was heavily aroused by now, and his foreskin was pulled back. 

Sherlock swore he could see stars the second John's hand tightened around his hard cock. John's hand moved up and down, without loosening its grip. John switched from short quick strokes to slow, long strokes all the way back to the base, depending how heavy Sherlock's breathing became. “John! Oh, I can't!“ Sherlock managed to shout. 

“Oh yes, you can!“ John said with a devilish grin. His thumb pressed onto the underneath side of Sherlock glans, while his other fingers pressed onto the upper side. He held this pressure for a couple of seconds, noticing how the tension released and Sherlock was less hard. Grasping for air, Sherlock looked surprised. “I told you we aren't done yet!“ John grinned, opening his mouth and kissing the tip of Sherlock's cock, then sliding his tongue in the slit and circling around the glans. Sherlock could not believe what he was seeing. It felt amazing, and together with the up and down movements of John's hand it quickly hardened his cock again. With a smile, John used the trick again, just to leave Sherlock whimpering and squeeing. “Please John! Please!“

John grabbed Sherlock's sack and took one of his balls in his mouth, sucking gently, then doing the same with the other. Sherlock had his legs spread wide and bent to push his feet into the mattress. His cock laying on this stomach, John gave it a long lick from the base to the tip, taking it in his mouth again and sucking a couple of times. Then he stopped. “You alright?“ he asked, smiling at Sherlock.  
Shaking his head from one side to the other, Sherlock replied: “No!“

Laughing, John leaned over to his bedstand and grabbed the tube of lube he placed there before. Moving back, Sherlock stopped him. “What can I do?“ The serious look in his eyes touched John. He took Sherlock's hand and guided it to his own cock, which was stiff and hard. He wrapped his hand around it and showed him how to move it best to give him the most pleasure. Sherlock learned fast and after a few strokes, he found the right rhythm. 

“Stop!“ John stopped Sherlock's hand from moving, to stop himself from coming too early. Putting some lube onto his fingers, he started to move them around his own anus, slowly pushing one finger in to the knuckle and massaging the muscle to relax and release. Sherlock sat on the bed, watching quietly. After a while, he took the lube, applied some onto his fingers. “Let me help you“ he said. John looked up, surprised. He moved around, on his knees and bending forward to give Sherlock the best access, and showed him what to do. His long, slim fingers were very talented, pushing in and out, pushing and massaging his muscle, flexing it open further and further. John gasped, on his knees, his elbows on the mattress and tried to relax his muscles.  
“Oh this is good! Yes, deeper!“ were the only directions he gave Sherlock.  
After a couple of minutes, he asked Sherlock to stop and to take the condom that was also on his nightstand.  
As it was the first time for Sherlock, John did not want to take any risk so he pushed him back into the pillows, to take over himself. 

He moved himself over Sherlock's lap, with his knees to the right and left. “Do not move!“ he instructed Sherlock. 

Guiding the tip in, he moved himself down onto Sherlock's cock slowly. He started with small steps, but slowly he inched further and further down until he took Sherlock in completely. Then he noticed that Sherlock had held his breath all the time and slapped his chest slightly, laughing. “Breathe! I didn't rescue you so that you could die while having sex with me!“

After they stopped laughing, John started moving again, slowly and then picking up the pace. Sherlock grabbed John's thighs, his fingers curling into his skin, while panting hard. Another couple of strokes and John reached his climax, shuddering and holding onto Sherlock's legs. Once he could breathe again, he noticed that Sherlock had not come yet. He started moving again slowly gliding up and down his cock, until he could feel him twist and twitch inside him. When he stopped shivering, John carefully moved up, pulling the condom off and into the bin next to his nightstand. Lying down next to Sherlock, leaning against the headboard, he watched him.  
“How are you feeling?“ he asked after a while.  
“This...“ Sherlock took a deep breath. “This was incredible.“  
John cuddled up to his side and nestled his head on his shoulder, his arm around Sherlock's chest.  
“That's good!“


End file.
